A Million Miles a Minute
by A M3mb3r123
Summary: Maybe it was because the Avengers were out on a mission. Maybe it was because he hadn't gotten enough sleep last night. Maybe it was because Flash just wouldn't shut up. But whatever it was, Peter Parker was having one hell of a day.


**A/N Trigger warning for transphobia and anxiety attacks.**

The Peter Tingle. Of course the name would stick. From the first time May called Peter's sense the Peter Tingle, that was it. What Peter didn't know was that May also had a tingle. She couldn't dodge a bullet, but she could tell when something was wrong with Peter.

Call it Mother/Aunt's Intuition, but May just knew. If Peter was having a particularly hard dysphoria day, May was ready with words of encouragement. If he was having trouble with a science project, she brought him snacks so he wouldn't starve and made him go to bed.

When May knocked on Peter's door one night, she knew something was wrong. It was the way he said, "Come in." It was a defeated sound. Voice too quiet, to slow. May opened the door slowly.

"What's up Bub?" May sat on the bed, tucking a leg underneath herself.

"They got called out on a mission," Peter fiddled with his phone. "Happy just called. He couldn't tell me much, just that they should be back in a day or so and not to worry."

"Let me guess, you didn't take his advice."

"No, I'm fine, really. I mean, they're the Avengers, right?"

May could tell something was off the next morning. Peter was eating a little too fast, even for a growing boy on T. His foot tapped anxiously under the table, not uncommon, just . . . quicker. But when she tried to address it, all she got in return was: "I'm fine, May. Just late."

-faster-

Peter went to school the normal way, no swinging involved. After he accidentally wore his binder on a mission, Tony made Peter promise to engage in "No physical activity, period!" while wearing it. If there was one thing in the world Peter didn't want to do, it was disappoint Tony.

That didn't stop him, however, from walking a little faster than normal. The sooner he could get to school, the sooner he could finish his work, the sooner he could get to the tower to make sure the team was okay. Peter hated it when they were all gone, and often tried to bribe Happy into letting him know what was really going on.

But, Happy had a strict policy when it came to these things. He wouldn't tell the young avenger anything unless his homework was done. Happy figured that Peter would be a much better listener if he had to work before said listening. Besides, no news is good news, right?

So, Peter decided, subconsciously, to work as fast as possible. And that meant getting to school as fast as possible.

Of course, the second he walked into school, Flash was right there.

"'Sup Penis Parker. What's it like having a fake dick?" Peter hated this part of the day. Flash couldn't let him go one minute without reminding the whole school that Peter was trans.

"What's it like being a real dick?" MJ was perched, somehow, on top of a locker, sketchbook and pencil in hand. Her classic "bitch, please" look was plastered on her face.

Peter was grateful for her, but wished that Flash would just grow up on his own.  
He may have been used to the nickname and constant comments, but that didn't make the words sting any less.

There were some days Peter wanted to come right out and say it.

"Flash, has it ever occurred to your that Spider-Man could be trans?"

But he didn't. There was no way he wanted his identity to be revealed, at least while he was still in high school, and with this being his senior year, he didn't want to take any chances. Besides, he didn't quite know how the rest of the world would react to a trans superhero.

-faster-

It was in chemistry that Peter finally realized he was having a problem. The class was doing a lab, something about the weight of chemicals, and he knocked over a Bunsen burner. Luckily, it hadn't been on, but the noise alone was enough to stop Peter in his tracks and send a chill down his spine.

He was already breathing quick, he knew that, but the added anxiety of the entire class looking his way made him take breathes even faster. The teacher said something about cleaning it up and the precautions one should take in a lab.

But Peter was already a million steps ahead of him. He set up the burner, plugged it in, turned it in, and literally sped through the experiment. His fingers drummed nervously while he had to wait a whole 30 seconds to warm something up. His foot tapped while he calculated mass. His brain switched back and forth between the Avengers, Flash, schoolwork . . .

-faster-

Buy the time Peter got out of class, he was struggling to catch his breath. His anxiety was getting the best of him and he knew that he needed to slow down.

The real problem was his binder. He loved the snugness of it on most days, but anxiety attacks were a different sort of problem. He needed to adjust it, take it off long enough to calm down, and he'd be fine.

The problem was, this was high school. The whole place was crawling with people who didn't take the time to get to know him, or those who wouldn't understand.

He needed to stop. But not a bathroom. Maybe a closet? Too risky. An unused classroom? Nope, all locked. Locked, locker!

Peter all but ran to his locker. Which didn't help. Slow, slow. He grabbed Ned and didn't say a word.

He dragged him to a closet, stopped Ned outside, whispered "stay," in a small voice and closed the door.

Air filled his lungs as he lifted the bottom of his binder. Shirt still on, he slumped against a self and breathed. Deeply, slowly. Peter forced his mind to slow down, forced himself to focus on the now. No Avengers, no Flash, just Peter. In a closet. With his hands up his shirt.

Peter was exhausted. Five minutes passed in the blink of an eye, and Peter needed to get back to class. He knew he was late, and that Ned was too, but he couldn't focus on that. Focus on breathing.

He opened the door to find a very nervous looking Ned.

"Dude, are you okay? Is it the Avengers? Are they hurt? Are you hurt? Man, you look really pale . . ."

"Ned," Peter said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Everything's okay now."

Peter walked to his next class, accepted the tardy he was given, and sat in his seat. The only problem with battling and anxiety attack as that now he had to battle against sleep. Fighting your mind is not easy.

Happy picked Peter up that day. The Avengers were fine, he said, just tired. And boy, did Peter understand that all too well.

**A/N** Sup y'all, I'm back! I based the premise of this story largely on an experience I had at work the other day. Basically, my anxiety attacks involve me moving too fast and that's not ideal whilst wearing a binder-like sports bra.

Also: I will headcanon Peter as trans forever. This IS the hill I die on, lol.

Aight, y'all know the drill, leave a comment, a kudos, etc. Love y'all!

-Mem 3


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